


hold me down in the siren lights

by unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage and Discipline, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, F/F, Femslash, Ice Play, Kink Negotiation, Non-Linear Narrative, Orgasm Delay, Research, Safe Sane and Consensual, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye is learning that she likes being in control for a little while, Jemma knows that she likes following the rules, and they both really like making each other happy, so it's pretty ideal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold me down in the siren lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadowcrawler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/gifts).



> The show's writers write what was probably meant to be a throwaway joke about safewords.  
> Said joke prompts an idle conversation about the characters' potential kink dynamic.  
> Said conversation prompts a story to be written.
> 
> Such is the nature of this piece.

“Holy shit, Jem,” Skye breathes out.  It isn’t the most in-character reaction, probably, but they haven’t really started, have they, so… so there.

Jemma’s cheeks turn pink and damned if she doesn’t lower her voice in that accidentally sexy way she has and ask, “Do you approve?”

Okay.  Apparently they _have_ started.  Skye rewinds just a little bit and changes her excuse to an inevitable moment of surprise.  Her girlfriend’s cute all the time, but there’s a big difference between the everyday button-ups and sweaters, science-y cute Simmons that everyone gets to see and the bashful, beautiful, dolled-up Jemma that’s just for _her_.

She’s still getting used to having someone that’s actually, only _hers_.

It’s the latter one that’s there now, standing posed in the alcove leading out to the doorway proper.  She’s got her hands held behind her back, one hip slightly cocked, her hair’s in a braid over one shoulder, she’s barefoot except the almost-nude stockings she’s got clipped to her garter belt.  _Goddammit_ , she actually has a garter belt, and it matches her bra, which – Skye still isn’t used to the way that Jemma’s got more white or beige bras than any one person possibly needs, but then for special sex things she shows up with these girly-as-fuck lingerie sets (this one is purple with pink bows).

“I do,” Skye says resolutely.

 

* * *

 

They’re spooning in bed (Skye’s, it’s farther away from the others at the moment) when Skye first works up the nerve to mention it.

“So I was wondering,” she begins, much more tentatively than usual.  “And look, if you’re not comfortable just tell me, but…”

“What?” Jemma asks, and it’s just that note of innocence in her voice that makes Skye nervous.

“I was just wondering,” Skye repeats, “Have you ever… in bed, I mean… played with handcuffs or anything?”

Jemma rolls over to meet Skye’s eyes, and surprisingly, her whole face is lit up.  Like, talking about experimental biology lit up.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaims.  “Or, well, only the once with handcuffs, they weren’t very nice ones so they were a bit uncomfortable to use and _not_ in the nice way!  But ropes, or – oh, have you ever used bondage tape?  It’s splendid.  For tying-up, or blindfolds, or mind you I’ve never tried this, but it’s meant to be wonderful as a gag, or…”

She trails off, finally registering the look on Skye’s face.  It’s not, Skye thinks, probably dissimilar from the one she expected of Jemma: shocked, to put it plainly.

“Damn,” Skye says.  “I guess what they say is true, huh?”

“What’s that?” Jemma asks (though she sort of knows).

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Skye declares.

“I’m not so quiet,” Jemma points out with a smirk.

 

* * *

 

“Come here,” Skye says – commands, really – gesturing to the rectangle of floor in front of her.

Eyes still trained on the ground, Jemma obliges, taking short, measured steps until she reaches Skye.

And maybe it’s a little too passionate or sentimental or whatever, but Skye’s in charge, she gets to make the rules, right?  There’s no shame at all in immediately pressing Jemma to her and kissing her – roughly, at least, and hungrily for sure.  For her part, Jemma whimpers into Skye’s mouth, going slightly tense with the effort not to move much, and it’s clear she’s just as turned on.

There’s a part of Skye that just wants to shove Jemma onto the bed and kiss her senseless, the rest of it be damned, but after all of the buildup to this, she _really_ wants to see what effect it’s going to have.

 

* * *

 

“You sound pretty serious about all this stuff,” Skye observes.

“Oh, I wouldn’t class myself as part of the culture or anything so dramatic,” Jemma giggles.  She sits up in bed, tugging on the covers, and (somewhat to stay warm, somewhat for more personal reasons) Skye follows suit.  “But really, I think I’ve been playing BDSM games nearly as long as I’ve been sleeping with people.”

Skye wrinkles her nose.  “Bondage, S&M, what’s the D exactly?”

“It’s a compound acronym, actually: bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism,” Jemma rattles off cheerily.  “I’m really more for the B&D and D/s than the S&M, I think, but then, everyone’s different, aren’t they.”

“Uh, yeah,” Skye says.  She’s still a little stunned by this whole revelation, but not _bad_ stunned, and she’s still feeling a little shy talking about it, which is weird.  She’s done some stuff like this before, of course she has, but she sort of just did it, minimal analysis involved.  But there’s no such thing as minimal analysis with Jemma.

That’s one of the nice things about her, though.  She’s straightforward, especially – to Skye’s initial surprise, given the way she stammered and giggled through their courtship – when it comes to talking about stuff like this, stuff about _them_.  They’ve pretty well established that they’re a thing, at least with each other, which counts for a lot.

Skye’s not as great at talking about feelings-related things, though.  She’s getting better, but it’s still easier to shift this slightly back into the procedural.  “I’m guessing just by the way you were talking about it, you’re more… well.  On the receiving end of it.”

It’s stupid, because if they’re going to do this stuff they should at least be able to use the words, but it’s sort of one of those things where Skye really needs Jemma to say it first.  _Submissive_ isn’t really a word she’s comfortable throwing at someone if they haven’t used it yet.

With a happy, almost nostalgic little sigh, Jemma nods.  “I am, yes,” she agrees.  “It’s not to say that I’m opposed to trying the other someday, I suppose, but it’s more comfortable for me to follow than lead in most situations.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve noticed that,” Skye muses, nudging the other girl’s shoulder playfully.  “Miss Rule-Follower.”

Jemma blushes, covering her face with her hands.  “You make me sound so predictable,” she murmurs.

“Yeah, but you’re predictable in a cute way,” Skye counters.

 

* * *

 

As they kiss, Skye brings her hands up Jemma’s mostly bare back slowly, letting Jemma savor the contrast between the smooth satin of her fingerless gloves and the soft, very personal touch of her fingertips.  As she guessed, Jemma shakes just slightly in the embrace, murmuring nothings against Skye’s skin, and Skye takes it as a cue to push on forward.

A hand on either of Jemma’s shoulders, she gently urges her to her knees, and almost boldly, Jemma trails her lips down Skye’s body as she goes.  Once she’s kneeling, Jemma dares for the first time to really look her girlfriend over.  From this position, it strikes Skye as particularly worshipful, like even more adoring than usual and almost overwhelmingly trusting.  Maybe that’s just the nature of their current dynamic or maybe it’s Jemma, but it’s not like anything Skye’s had aimed her way before.

It’s kind of intoxicating.

Jemma’s not thinking nearly so deeply as that.  Right now, all she’s really concerned with is Skye: her hair all curled and disheveled in her give-no-fucks way, her leather-and-lace lingerie, her stockings and gloves.  All black, of course, and all impossibly enticing.  They’re a study in opposites, the two of them, the biker babe domme and her candy-colored girly girl of a sub; it’s odd and perfectly logical all at once.

“Getting an eyeful?” Skye teases, moving away to head toward the dresser she’s laid all their toys on.

“I’m memorizing every last detail,” Jemma says reverently, staring with more of that undisguised lust.  Her mouth’s slightly open, her pupils are dilated, and Skye can totally see her chest rising and falling just that much more rapidly than usual.  “You’re a sight to behold, ma’am.”

Despite herself, Skye shivers.  She’s still getting used to hearing that in a bedroom context, but good _grief_ , hearing it from Jemma is almost enough to do her in by itself.  It must be the accent.  (It’s totally not just the accent.)

She grabs the blindfold from the dresser, holds it in her hands and pulls it tight against itself.  “Don’t get greedy, now,” she chides playfully.

 

* * *

 

“Would I be right to suppose you’re more comfortable topping?” Jemma asks.

Skye nods.  “I mean, I’m not as intense as you are about all this, but yeah,” she says.

“I’m not exactly _hardcore_ ,” Jemma retorts, giggling.  “Or I haven’t been, before, not really.”

“Still, though,” Skye exclaims.  “Here I was thinking I was going to freak you out just by asking if maybe some time I could handcuff you to the bed, and you start talking about all this – I don’t know, psychological stuff.”

Psychological stuff is not, by and large, something Skye’s been particularly comfortable with in the past, in all honesty.  She doesn’t really have a great history with people, so she’s not particularly interested in dissecting how they feel about her or even how she feels about them, let alone how that may manifest in what they’re into sexually.

It’s different with Jemma, though.  It wasn’t always different, but now, somehow, it is.

“It’s always sort of been linked for me, I think,” Jemma explains softly.  “I mean, I like the physical sensations that come with being tied up and having things done to me – I won’t bore you with all of the neuroscientific details, but there’s a certain chemical release that just vanilla sex doesn’t accomplish quite as easily – but, like I’ve said.  I also enjoy having rules to follow sometimes, giving control over.”

“Right,” Skye murmurs.  She knows Jemma doesn’t expect her to offer a similar explanation or even have one – after all, she’s apparently a kink dilettante (for example, like, Miles let her handcuff him once, but it was probably just so he didn't have to do as much work, sexually speaking) – but it doesn’t take much effort for her to figure out how the opposite goes for her. 

 

* * *

 

When the leather snaps, Jemma’s eyes go wide.

Skye doesn’t say anything just yet, smiling coyly and sashaying back over, smoothing a hand over Jemma’s hair.  She’s standing close enough to feel Jemma’s breath on the skin of her thighs – and yeah, that’s pretty tempting, too.

“Take it in,” she coos, pausing for a moment to let Jemma do just that before placing the blindfold over Jemma’s eyes, adjusting it and securing it snugly behind her head.

When the darkness overtakes her, Jemma releases the fist she didn’t know she’d been making and lets her shoulders drop just a bit, relaxing.  She knows that Skye has her; she knows she doesn’t need to worry.

Skye, on the other hand, sounds just slightly worried when she murmurs, “Your heart is pounding,” brushing fingertips over the pulse point beneath Jemma’s jaw.

“It’s not anxiety, ma’am,” Jemma replies.  “I’m just excited.”

Does she even know her voice has gone husky, all threaded with lust?  Maybe she doesn’t.  But whether or not she knows it, it’s seriously doing something to Skye, and she’s starting to be able to hear her own heart.

It wouldn’t do to focus on that, though.  Instead, Skye brings her fingers up over Jemma’s cheek, traces the contour of the leather blindfold.  “I’m glad to hear that, honey,” she says, and she’s fully aware of how she’s dropped her own voice low.

The second it’s said, a moan – an actual _moan_ , louder than even some of the ones she’s made when they’re actually already having sex – falls from Jemma’s lips.

Yeah, this is going to work.

 

* * *

 

“I’m glad you aren’t super-into the S&M side of it,” Skye teases the next morning.  They’re the only ones on the Bus – everyone else is off on some errand or another – or else they wouldn’t be having this discussion in the kitchen over a pot of Jemma’s favorite tea.  “I mean, I’m up for playing your top, but I don’t think I’d be good at, like, taking a whip to you or something.”

“Shush,” Jemma giggles.  “There’s a lot more to it than that, despite what the movies would have you believe.  It just depends on what the people playing want, what sides of it the sub is interested in and what sides of it the dom/me wants.  I mean, I’ve done _some_ of that, to try it out or because it made someone else happy, but really, who hasn’t been spanked once or twice?”

Skye practically does a spit-take.  “Uh, I haven’t,” she exclaims.

“Well, yes, but you don’t sub,” Jemma points out.  “For those of us who do, I’m sure it’s fairly likely to have happened at least once.”

 “Okay,” Skye hesitates, “But it’s not really your thing?”

“I like the sensation aspect,” Jemma clarifies, “But pure pain and punishment aren’t the point for me, no.”

“So – yes to bondage, yes to bossing you around, no to the other stuff,” Skye summarizes.  “If we do this.”

Jemma blinks slowly, smiling.  “When we do this, if you’re into it,” she corrects.  “And I should really just make you a list, I think.  That would be simpler.”

“Of course it would,” Skye sighs playfully.

 

* * *

 

“Get up,” Skye says, backing away enough to give Jemma enough space to do so.

It’s always a funny realization, Jemma thinks: you don’t pay much attention to the effect that sight has on your balance when you’ve got it, but once it’s gone you’re suddenly very conscious of how off-kilter everything feels.  Especially when you know there’s someone watching _you_.  She’s never been the sort to get off on abject humiliation, but this heightened awareness of every possible misstep is rather exciting.

“Unclip your stockings long enough to pull those cute little purple panties off, then get them snapped back on,” Skye murmurs.  “I don’t wanna have to worry about them later.”

She watches Jemma fumble to do so, slow but deliberate, fondling her own body just slightly as she does, and once they’re off, she tosses them to the floor and replaces the garter.  “Like this?”

“Just like it.  Now go over to the bed, honey,” Skye instructs, moving to turn Jemma in the appropriate direction and brushing the satin-covered palm of her hand down Jemma’s arm as she backs away again.

“How many steps, ma’am?” Jemma asks softly, shifting her weight to distract her from her already-noticeable arousal.  She can’t really hide how the endearment hits her just right (well, she hadn’t been expecting to hear it, given that Skye’s not usually one for pet names and it’s not like she’d _said_ she was going to use one now) but she’s trying as hard as she can.

Which Skye can see and finds way more adorable than she ought to.  “Four small ones,” she estimates.

Jemma nods, counting one-two-three-four steps under her breath before she feels the mattress against her shins and stops, silently awaiting more instructions.

“Now I want you to climb onto the bed,” Skye says.  “On all fours, please.”

Jemma sets her jaw, nodding resolutely.  She braces her hands against the mattress and eases up, crawling forward slowly and arching her back once she’s still.  The bed is covered in a canvas cloth – not as unpleasant as a plastic sheet, but rough enough, and more importantly disposable – and the pillows tossed to the floor out of the way.

They hadn’t exactly made it part of the game plan, but with Jemma’s ass so prominently displayed like that, Skye can’t really help but to spank her once, then twice, soft enough that it barely counts but unexpected enough that Jemma squeals.

“Oh, honey,” Skye croons, brushing fingertips soothingly over the flushed skin.  “You just looked so irresistible like that.”

She moves in to place a kiss on Jemma’s thigh and Jemma groans out, “Thank you, ma’am.”

Skye trails her lips up Jemma’s spine, then presses down on her hips gently, encouraging her down so she’s practically prostrate, like she’s praying to some ancient god.  “And you look fucking hot like this,” she adds.  “All mine.”

“Oh, yes,” Jemma agrees breathily.  “All yours, ma’am.”

“Good girl,” Skye murmurs, petting Jemma’s hair.  “Now turn over for me and spread out.”

She scoots back to give Jemma the right amount of room to do that, admiring the clearly-not-purposefully graceful way she rolls onto her back and stretches out.  It’s pretty damn beautiful, is what.

 

* * *

 

“You weren’t kidding,” Skye exclaims.

She shuts the door behind her and raises an eyebrow.  Jemma’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, wearing nothing but panties and a giant old science bowl t-shirt and surrounded by sheaves of paper and her open laptop.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Jemma asks sweetly.  She scoots some of the paper aside and pats the empty spot on the mattress, and after kicking her jeans off, Skye joins.

“What is all this?” she asks.

“Lots of it is just reading material,” Jemma explains.  “Further information about the different things we could do and how.”

Skye picks up the laptop and looks it over.  “Geez,” she says.  “That’s a _lot_ of stuff to consider.”

“If we take it step-by-step it won’t be too much,” Jemma replies, trying for helpful.   “It’s just a matter of figuring out where our interests coincide.”

“Like…”

“Like, you mentioned handcuffs to begin with,” Jemma declares.  “Do you have a preference for those, or had you not considered the alternatives?”

“The alternatives like rope or something?” Skye clarifies.

“Right,” Jemma nods.  “I actually quite like rope sometimes, it can feel very safe and snug, particularly if it’s used to bind your arms to your torso or some such–”  She shuffles through the papers, pulls out a few diagrammed examples.  “And mind, I’ve never done anything as fancy as this, proper shibari is an art, really, but – maybe that’s better saved for later.”

Skye takes a moment to look the pictures over, then tilts her head at Jemma.  “I mean, you would look totally hot like this,” she says, pausing to admire the way it makes Jemma blush.  “But if you’re thinking we’re going to do this more than once…”

“I am,” Jemma interrupts, grinning cheekily.

“Well, then, why would we do everything all at once?” Skye asks.

 

* * *

 

Once Jemma’s in position, Skye reaches for the cuff for Jemma’s left wrist.

“Remember our safeword,” she says, voice low.

“I do, ma’am,” Jemma smiles, and she looks almost peaceful as Skye kisses the underside of her wrist, then fastens the leather cuff around it.

Skye repeats this process, going clockwise and with every affection until Jemma is spread like a starfish, limbs tethered to each corner of the bed.  She can catch each of Jemma’s soft little sighs of breath and she figures Jemma is attuned to hers as well, and for a moment she’s quiet, just enjoying listening and being listened to in kind.

“Are you ready, honey?” Skye asks, and Jemma can hear her moving toward the dresser again, picking something up. 

Jemma’s mouth falls open, she very unapologetically whimpers.  “Yes,” she says.  “Yes, ma’am, I’m ready.”

All at once, Skye’s back up on the bed and straddling Jemma’s hips, trailing fingers down her right arm and loving the way it makes her shiver.  “Ask nicely,” she reminds.

“Please, would you kiss me?” Jemma requests.  “Please, ma’am?”

And Skye does, keeping it chaste for the time being, but with a flick of her wrist she also turns the candle in her hand and drips a line of wax down Jemma’s arm.  _That’s_ something Jemma had expected, but it’s still a new enough sensation to her that she squeaks into the kiss.

When that sound turns to a moan, Skye just grins, swallowing the sound greedily.  All hers.

 

* * *

 

“So you wanna go over the list?” Skye asks.

“I hope you don’t mind it,” Jemma begins, sounding nervous.  “I said I would and then I realized I was inadvertently sort of using this to, ah… to do things I’ve always been intrigued by but never done, and we don’t have to do it if you don’t want, but I thought…”

“Shush,” Skye soothes, and in a way she’d never have done with a different lover, she reaches to press a finger to Jemma’s lips. “I don’t mind.  You want me to fulfill your wildest fantasies?  I’m game.”

And Jemma just breathes a sigh of relief.  “Good,” she says.  “Because I trust you.”

Add that to the list of things Skye’s still getting used to and probably doesn’t really deserve.  Jemma’s naturally trusting – she doesn’t have any reason not to be – and she’s quick to give second chances, which isn’t something that’s been true of most people Skye’s wound up tangled up with.

She’s mostly keeping this to herself, of course, which isn’t a surprise, but she’s pretty sure Jemma’s figured out at least some of it, being smart like she is.

She skims the page, contemplating each point.  “When it says temperature play…”

“Think of it like this,” Jemma says eagerly.  It’s kind of impossible not to find her adorable right now, her hands folded over her heart, her smile big.  “You’ve had sex in the shower, right?”

“I’m pretty sure _we’ve_ almost had sex in a shower,” Skye points out.  “Yeah, I’m familiar with the concept.”

“Well, have you ever turned the water very hot or very cold while you’re doing that?”

“That’s all there is to it?”

“That’s… perhaps a gateway version of it,” Jemma says.  “The vanilla version.   Proper temperature play is usually ice cubes or things that have been frozen for a while or hot wax.”

Skye raises an eyebrow.  “Doesn’t that get painful?”

Jemma smiles, reaching for another paper.  “Not too much, not if it’s done right.  Now, like I said I’ve never _done_ this, exactly, but the safety information is here.”

“Exactly?” Skye asks.

“I’ve never done the wax part,” Jemma clarifies.  “Ice once, though it was more a necessity than a kink given how bloody warm it was out, damn Italy in the summertime – but not both together.”

“But you wanna?”

Jemma nods eagerly.

 

* * *

 

It’s really very clever, Jemma thinks: Skye’s starting to drip the wax at her wrists, then working it in toward her shoulders, going excruciatingly slow.  She’s drawing lines down one arm, then the other, as if to focus the heat in Jemma’s chest, and oh, but it’s working.

She’s making the most delicious little soft noises, lying perfectly still save the way she twitches when the wax first hits.  Skye’s kissing her jaw and throat between applications, savoring the way she moans a bit louder each time.

“Is this good?” she asks softly.  “Is it what you wanted?  What you like?”

Asked as she drip-drip-drips the wax down Jemma’s left arm, pausing to let some pool in the antecubital of her elbow (Jemma taught her the term just the other night in the middle of a sweet little lesson about lesser-known erogenous zones) .

“It is, ma’am,” Jemma replies with a catch in her voice.  “Please may I have more?”

“Of course, honey,” Skye hums.  “I’ve barely even gotten started.”

Carefully, she eases back between Jemma’s spread legs and scoots down, unsnapping the garter holding Jemma’s left stocking, then hooking fingers under the band to pull it down to her knee.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jemma breathes, instinctively pushing her hips up when she feels Skye’s hand near her naked sex.

Skye smiles to herself, stroking over the skin of Jemma’s thigh before carefully drizzling wax over it, the trails running parallel to the top of her stocking.

It makes Jemma tremble, gasping as the wax drips down her inner thigh (another erogenous zone, but Skye had known that one already).  “Too hot?” Skye asks, though she thinks she knows that, too.

“Perfect,” Jemma moans.

 

* * *

 

“So, I was thinking about all this,” Skye says a couple days later, smoothing Jemma’s hair as they lay in bed.  “I don’t think either of us love the idea of getting interrupted while we’re trying all this adventurous stuff.”

“No,” Jemma agrees.  “I mean, we can convince Fitz to look past the occasional sleepover –”

“Fitz totally knows we’re not just having sleepovers,” Skye chuckles.  “He gives me this _look_ sometimes, like he’s happy we’re – but he’s also just expecting to have to threaten me with bodily harm.”

“He does get like that with the people I’m sleeping with,” Jemma admits, rolling her eyes a bit.  “But as I was _saying_ , our usual is one thing but I think it would be decidedly more difficult to explain to him or anyone else exactly why you’ve got me chained to the bed.”

“And etcetera,” Skye adds, grinning wickedly.  “But we’ve got that furlough coming up, right?”

“Right,” Jemma nods.

“Well, what say we chip in for a hotel room, somewhere nobody else will find us of course,” Skye continues, “And we cut ourselves off from everything else and play to our hearts’ content.  Sound nice?”

Jemma lifts her head to look Skye over.  “Can we go shopping for toys beforehand?”

“Unless you’ve got a secret stash around here, I’d think we’d have to,” Skye observes.

“Then hell yes,” Jemma chirps.

 

* * *

 

Skye sits back on her heels, admiring her handiwork for a moment.  Jemma’s got lines of wax up and down her arms and all across her thighs.  She’s laying there panting, flushed, her head turned to one side, and holy shit, it’s so sexy.

“Are you ready for more?” Skye asks gently.

“Yes, yes, please, more, ma’am,” Jemma sighs happily, wriggling in her bonds, but then she feels Skye climb off the bed and can’t help but whine.

“It’s okay, honey,” Skye consoles from across the room.  Jemma can hear her rummaging, it sounds like there’s clinking and splashing so she thinks she can guess what’s coming next.  “I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry.”

“I know,” Jemma says almost immediately.  “I – I know, ma’am.”

“Mm, I know you know,” Skye says.  She moves back onto the bed, leaning over Jemma and kissing her firmly as she traces an ice cube down her left arm, right over top of the wax and the just slightly pink skin under and around it.

When the ice touches her, Jemma shivers, cries out, lifts her head to participate in the kiss a bit more.

“Is that good?” Skye asks.

Jemma nods feverishly, and after Skye switches hands and drags the ice down her other arm, she wails out a string of “Yes, yes, please, yes, please.”

“That sounds like you’re missing something,” Skye points out teasingly, because she’s finally getting the swing of it.

“Please, ma’am,” Jemma corrects (despite the blindfold, Skye can see her furrowing her brow like she can’t believe her own forgetfulness, and Skye thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world).

 

* * *

 

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but the girls manage to set up their little weekend break without much meddling.  Ward shrugs it off – “he’ll be glad to have me out of his hair for a couple days,” Skye jokes – and Coulson doesn’t press, May doesn’t say anything about it at all but keeps raising an eyebrow – “there’s no way she could _know_ , even if she knows something,” Jemma assures – and Fitz just makes a face.

“Does he know about this little… habit of yours?” Skye asks once they’re away from everyone else, walking hand-in-hand to the most legitimate and least expensive sex shop they could find in the area (that was Skye’s to research).

“I expect he’s figured out some of it,” Jemma shrugs.  “Considering how long we’ve known each other, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he had an inkling, but I think he also prefers to be as willfully ignorant of my sex life as possible.”

Skye nods.  “Makes sense, I guess,” she says.  She figures that being all dapper and suave is sort of her job now, so she opens the door to the shop very dramatically, ushering Jemma in and oh, geez, Jemma blushes and lets her gaze drop to the floor demurely as she enters and if that’s what Skye has to look forward to she cannot fucking wait for tonight.

They’re over amongst the leathers when Jemma asks, “Should I call you anything special?”

“I’m not really the ‘Mistress’ type,” Skye says.  “All of those honorifics just sound too formal.”

“Well, yes, but I feel like I ought to – I don’t know, distinguish _somehow_ ,” Jemma pouts.  “It’s just… it’s different than usual.”

“I know,” Skye nods, picking up a cuff to examine it curiously before adding, “Do you like ‘ma’am’?”

Jemma’s eyebrow goes up.  “Do you like it?”

On one hand, this is a give and take, this is what Jemma wants and what Skye wants and how they balance out, and Skye knows that.  But they’re suddenly close enough to the actual thing that it’s starting to be just a little more about what _she_ wants, what she says, and she knows Jemma wants it that way.

So she straightens up a bit, nods.  “I do,” she says, holding the cuff out.  “And I like these, too.  All that black leather against your skin like I’m claiming you, I’d like to see that.”

“Then you will, ma’am,” Jemma whispers, all sweet and coy, and damn, it sends the best kind of chill down Skye’s spine.

 

* * *

 

The ice is all but melted, leaving trails of cool water on Jemma’s skin, when Skye sits up and reaches for the candle again, lets more wax splash onto Jemma’s abdomen.  Of course Jemma shrieks – she’d just gotten used to the cold, she somehow wasn’t expecting the hot again – but it also causes her hips to buck, her back to arch.

“Do you want me to fuck you, honey?” Skye asks, low and mischievous, and Jemma can just imagine the flash in her eyes – she misses seeing it, sure, but she doesn’t _really,_ she’s enjoying the surprises too much.

“Please, ma’am?” Jemma begs.  “Please?”

Skye traces her fingertips over the warm wax, drawing patterns against Jemma’s skin.  “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers?” she asks, teasing them lower.

“Yes, please, ma’am, I do,” Jemma pants.

“Or do you want me to lean in and lick you –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jemma shouts.

“I’m not done, honey,” Skye cautions, though she’s grinning.  “Lick you and suck you and kiss you till you come?”

“Please, ma’am,” Jemma repeats, straining at her cuffs.  The wax on her stomach is starting to crack, so Skye reaches up to pry it off with her fingernails, scratching the flesh just slightly and making Jemma moan even more.

“Sounds like that’s what you want,” Skye observes, and she promptly scoots right back down.  In truth, this is what she’d planned to do the whole time: she’s always liked going down on someone, it puts her in control of the situation and the other person’s pleasure.

They both lose track of time, and there’s nothing that matters at all except the two of them right now, Jemma’s flushed skin and the cool water dripping down it and Skye’s lips and tongue finding all those places she’s come to know will send Jemma right over quickly.  Skye’s murmuring something, Jemma’s whining, and when her muscles start to tense in that way Skye’s familiar with, she just –

Stops.

All Jemma can think is _why is she stopping_ , but Skye lifts her head and, smug as anything, announces, “Did I forget to say you don’t get to come until I say?”

 

* * *

 

“We’re really going to do this,” Jemma murmurs once they’re up in the hotel room, emptying their shopping bags out on the bed.

“We are,” Skye agrees.

Honestly, seeing it all laid out like this is a little overwhelming, but good overwhelming.  Overwhelming like she’s glad it’s something they’re undertaking together, because she is.  Really glad, actually.  It’s like… how lucky can she be, finding this gorgeous girl who gets off on handing over the control for a little while and wants to try out all her fantasies?  As far as Skye knows, she’s never been a participant in anyone’s fantasies before.  Not really.

And Jemma, for her part, is just as awed.  She’s used to just… not mentioning this to a lot of people, but here’s Skye not only bringing it up but being willing to go so far beyond what she’s used to, because she knows it makes Jemma happy.  It’s really sort of a perfect arrangement.

“Are you good?” Jemma asks softly.

“I’m great,” Skye promises.  “Are you?  If you’re not, remember.  Manscaping.”

“I remember,” Jemma says.  “Should I set anything up?”

“Not your job.  You just go get dressed,” Skye suggests, waving a hand toward the bathroom.  “I’ll get it taken care of.”

Jemma turns to go, then turns back around to plant a kiss on Skye’s cheek, innocent as can be.  “Thank you,” she says simply.

Skye smiles almost sheepishly.  “You, too, Jem.”

 

* * *

 

Jemma writhes against the bed, whimpering, and _god_ it is just such a turn-on for Skye to know that she did that to her, Jemma’s a happily needy mess right now because she wants to be and she wanted Skye to make her that way.

“How – how are you going to… if you’re…”

Jemma’s lost enough right now that she’s forgoing full sentences, and that’s pretty hot, too.  Jemma who can babble for hours about things, who’s even managed to be articulate when she orgasms, gladly reduced to fragments.  Because Skye did that to her.

Skye pops up and off the bed again, which makes Jemma even wilder, but soon she’s back and leaning right back over Jemma, leaning close.  “Open your mouth, honey,” she instructs.  Mystified, Jemma does, and Skye gently slides an ice cube between her lips.  “Now, just hold that there, and once it’s melted, you can come.”

It won’t take that long to melt it, Jemma knows, but she’s right on the edge and she’s genuinely worried she won’t be able to hold off, but she _has_ to hold off.

“And I guess you can figure out that if you’re sucking on that, you’re not going to be making too much noise,” Skye adds.  She likes Jemma’s noise, she really likes it, but right now, her noise is one of the only things Jemma still has control over.

And Jemma understands this logic, too.  She likes following the rules, and who knew Skye was going to be so good at making them?

So Skye moves back down, runs her tongue over Jemma’s slit again, and gets right back to it.  All she hears from Jemma are slight, barely-there sighs.  Those are all right, that’s not against orders.

True to her promise, Skye licks and sucks and kisses, bringing Jemma right to the brink again, and true to _her_ promise, Jemma holds the ice cube between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, feeling it melt and numb her mouth with the cold just a _tiny_ bit and concentrating on _not_ coming and _not_ making noise, and she’s concentrating so hard, so hard, but she needs it so much, and then finally the ice cube is melted and Jemma swallows the drops of water it leaves and Skye kisses her clit and –

“ _Oh_ , _oh, oh, oh_ ,” she shrieks.  “Please make me – I need to –”  And just like that, she does, and Skye just holds her hips, doesn’t stop lapping at her until her aftershocks subside.

 

* * *

 

Skye gets dressed pretty fast – actually, she’s been wearing the lingerie she picked out under her clothes all day, sort of getting in the mood, so that helps.  All she has to do is pull on her stockings and gloves, even though she feels like those might be a _little_ too much (but they’re not those crazy elbow-length PVC ones she saw at the shop, they still feel like her, not like she’s pretending).

Jemma probably spends two solid minutes just undressing and breathing in and out slowly, calming down.  She’s not nervous, she’s as eager as anything, but she also doesn’t want to make a fool of herself.

While Jemma’s still fixing herself up, Skye makes herself busy getting the scene set up.  She moves the toys to the dresser, she lights the candles and checks the ice cubes in the mini-fridge, she lays the canvas out over the bed and arranges the cuffs and straps around each corner neatly.  They're on a high enough floor that she doesn't feel weird leaving the window at least a bit uncovered, letting some of the city lights shine through into the room.

Once Jemma doesn’t feel like she’s going to embarrass herself or her girlfriend either, she starts slipping her brand new lingerie on.  It’s her style, at least her style for fancy underthings, it’s colorful and quite femme, and she likes that it doesn’t seem at first viewing like it’d go with hardcore kink.  When she’s got that done, she braids her hair – better to keep it out of the way, she thinks – and takes another deep breath.

Well, it’s now or never.

 

* * *

 

Skye moves to undo the cuffs around Jemma’s ankles first, then her wrists, but she doesn’t push Jemma to move until she seems plenty ready, once her breathing has slowed and her limbs have returned to a more natural resting position.

Then and only then does Skye whisper, “I need to get this canvas off the bed, honey, can you climb off for a second?”

Jemma nods just slightly, and though it takes a bit of effort to move and she stumbles trying to stand, she manages, standing right beside the bed while she listens to Skye pull the cloth off and rearrange the pillows against the headboard.

“Okay,” Skye says.  “Come back here to me.”  She pats the spot on the bed next to her loudly, and Jemma obliges.  “Let me take that off you, all right?”  It’s a question, not an order, and Jemma nods again, tipping her head down to facilitate Skye’s removing the blindfold.

Once it’s off and set on the end table, Skye lifts Jemma’s face and goes in for a soft kiss, one with all the affection in the world poured into it.  “Hey,” she murmurs.

“Hey,” Jemma echoes, smiling faintly.

“You doing okay?” Skye asks.

“I’m perfect,” Jemma says.  “That was…”

“I know,” Skye nods.  “You were amazing.”

“I owe you an orgasm,” Jemma exclaims suddenly, eyes going wide.  “Don’t I?”

“In the morning, maybe,” Skye shrugs, pulling Jemma close and wrapping an arm around her.  “But it’s like you said before.  It’s not always as clear-cut as all that, right?”

“Still,” Jemma defends, pawing at Skye’s side as she curls up.  “You – you rocked my _world_.  Not that you don’t usually, but – well.”

“I get it,” Skye agrees.  “But it’s not like that wasn’t perfect for me, too.  In case you haven’t noticed, I really just like getting you off.”

“I – but –”

“Shush,” Skye says softly.  “Let me snuggle you for a while, okay?”

“Okay,” Jemma replies, her eyes fluttering shut and a smile playing over her lips.  “Everything else later.”

 

* * *

 

“Everyone have a nice weekend off?” Coulson asks.

May nods.  “I think we all needed the rest,” she observes.

Ward turns to Skye and Jemma.  “Was your, uh, girl time… good?” he asks.  He doesn’t really know what they’d have meant by “girl time” and he doesn’t think he wants to, but it seems like the polite thing to at least ask.

Skye nods, a smile playing over her lips.  “I thought it was,” she declares.  “What do you think, honey?”

And Jemma just goes bright red.  “I – yes,” she agrees.  “It was just what we were hoping.”

“Brilliant,” Fitz says, but all he can think is that there’s no way there’s not something up if Skye’s calling Jemma _honey_.


End file.
